Breath
by DOC3
Summary: A crime against Booth and Brennan forces them to face themselves.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: ****Breath**

**Author: Doc**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I think I could manage if they were.**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: A crime against Booth and Brennan forces them to face themselves. **

**Author's Note: The title came ****from Breaking Benjamin's 'Breath'**** but this is not a song ****fic****. I just like th****e song. **

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The sun was pounding into her head with the force of a jackhammer. It felt as though a thousand shards of glass were behind her eyes as she struggled to raise one eyelid a millimeter, attempting to catch sight of the clock. The red lights were shaded and blurred, and she couldn't make out the numbers.

Is that a five or an eight? Ah… she reasoned … if it were a five there would be no rays of light between the blinds. Hence it must be an eight. Or a three. But that would mean it was three in the afternoon, which was highly unlikely. She never slept until three in the afternoon, even if it was a Saturday.

Now the jackhammer had turned into a herd of elephants, as she turned her head to get a better angle on the clock. Elephants on roller skates, now careening furiously around in her skull.

Yes, that was definitely an eight. And since it was Saturday she was turning away from the window for at least another thirty minutes. Slowly, so as not to awaken the aforementioned herd of elephants, she angled her body to face away from the window, brushing against something unexpected.

She froze, and then rubbed her knee against whatever was in her bed. It was warm, hard and slightly furry. Hairy. A leg. A man's leg. A man's hairy leg.

Both of her eyes flew open at this revelation. Twisting and wrenching, she clawed her way out of the bed, stumbling into the nightstand – which looked oddly out of place to her – before falling into the wall. Once she was completely free of the linens she risked a glance at the bed, confirming her suspicions that there was indeed a man in her bed.

Not her bed, she realized in horror. _His_ bed. Looking around she didn't recognize the rest of the room either. Beginning to shake, she tried to identify the obvious owner of the bed and the bedroom, but her eyes would not cooperate. Everything was still fuzzy, like the clock had been, and the room was tilting dangerously. His head was buried in a pillow, and the covers were strewn over him haphazardly leaving only a bare back and shoulders for her perusal.

Panicking as she realized she didn't know where she was, why she felt so incredibly woozy, nor whom she had been in bed with, she did the first thing that came to her mind when she spied her purse open on the dresser.

She pulled out her gun and pointed it at him. Or at least in his general direction, given the shaking of her hands as they gripped the cool metal.

"Okay … _you_… get up! Wake up right now and tell me who you are and what's going on! Wake up I said!" She tried to sound fearless but couldn't control the tremor in her voice.

As the figure under the covers began to stir, her heart hammered furiously in her chest. He must have sensed her presence as he came fully awake, because she saw the muscles in his back tense as he slowly lifted himself from the mattress and then began to turn.

"Put your hands where I can see them – I have a gun. And I'll use it," she added, with what she hoped was confidence.

As he turned to face her, the faint sunlight cast a glow across his features, framing his visage perfectly. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect 'Oh', as recognition sank in.

He swallowed a few times, and then spoke in a sleep-roughened voice.

"Bones? What are you doing here? Why are you holding a gun on me in your underwear?"

* * *

Seeley Booth was no stranger to the hangover. In fact, once upon a time, they were fairly good friends. Saturday morning buddies, at least three weeks out of four. Back in college, they even spent quality time together during the week, particularly after fifty-cent draft nights at his favorite bar. After his stint in the army, they reacquainted themselves on a regular basis, after all, who gambles without drinking? During the last eight years he and the hangover had drifted apart, meeting up less and less on Saturday mornings, or any mornings for that matter. Nevertheless, here they were – together again.

Shielding his eyes from the laser beam of sun piercing through the blinds, he squinted at the fuzzy and barely dressed figure of his partner, asking again, "What's going on Bones? What are you doing here?"

Lowering her new nine millimeter handgun a fraction, she replied with a jut of her chin, "What am _I _doing here? What are _you_ doing here?"

"This is my bedroom, Bones. I'm sleeping in it. What the hell's going on? Put down the damn gun." His voice sounded far away to his ears.

Booth felt like he had been run over by a truck. His head was pounding so hard it felt like his teeth were rattling in his mouth, and he still couldn't quite focus his eyes on Brennan. The best he could tell, she was wearing a white camisole and white cotton panties, which on any other day would have been the manifestation of many a fantasy he had entertained about his partner. On this particular day, he just wanted answers.

Setting the gun on his dresser gingerly, she pressed her fingertips to her eyes for a moment, willing the room to stop spinning. Peeking out, she looked disappointed to find the situation hadn't changed, and forced herself to speak.

"I have no idea, Booth," she said with a sigh. "The last thing I remember is being at Sid's new bar with you last night, before waking up this morning to… this," she gestured between them.

As she gestured between them, the reality of the situation began to sink in for Booth. He was no rocket scientist, but every other time in his life that he had woken up in bed with a woman after being in a bar, had meant one thing and one thing only. _Oh dear God._

"Bones … did we… you know… did anything… happen?" He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. He just continued to stare, praying with all his might she was going to say nothing happened. Not that he _never _wanted something to happen, for the record, just not like this.

She started to shake her head, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. Then she tilted her head to one side, then the other, then she screwed her eyes shut taking a deep breath.

She started to speak, and he leaned forward on the bed.

"I … I don't … I'm… goingtobesick."

The word rushed out as she clamped a hand over her mouth and dashed for the bathroom.

* * *

Booth gingerly climbed out of bed and was relieved to find he was still wearing underwear. Had he been naked, then there would have been precious little room for doubt about what had transpired. Dragging on his jeans that were crumpled on the floor, he padded barefoot to the door of the bathroom, almost colliding with Brennan as she stalked out.

"You okay, Bones?" He almost grinned at the top of her head as she brushed past him. She had commandeered his bathrobe from the back of the bathroom door and was pulling it tight around her. There was another fantasy manifested in front of him.

"I'm fine, Booth. Sit, we need to figure this out." She flopped into the armchair facing the bed.

"O…kay…" he moved to do as she wished. Whatever had happened in the eight hours he couldn't remember to save his life, could very well ruin their friendship and partnership and he knew she could shut down and shut him out in an instant. If letting her boss him around made her happy then he would comply for now.

"What do you remember?" she asked.

"Um… let me think," he scratched his head and reached for a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Regardless of what may have transpired, he felt a little uncomfortable sitting there bare-chested.

"I remember picking you up at the lab, around eight. We went by the diner and ate, and then I asked you to go by Sid's place in Georgetown with me. You agreed finally, and we got there around ten. We talked to Sid at the bar for a while then moved to a corner table when that jazz band started."

"How much did we drink?" Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, making him feel like one of her bone specimens.

"I had two beers at the bar, and I remember ordering a third at the table. I don't remember drinking it though… three beers isn't nearly enough for me to forget eight hours of my life, Bones."

"That's what bothers me, Booth. I had one apple martini at the bar, and I remember ordering another one at the table as well, at the same time you asked for another beer. For some reason I remember spilling something…"

"Bingo. I remember that too. Instead of the drinks we ordered, two double martinis were brought to us – they were red, maybe cosmopolitans – and we told the girl those weren't ours and she said to keep them anyway and she'd get our right drinks. Someone hit your elbow from behind and knocked yours…"

Booth searched the bedroom until he found the shirt he had been wearing the night before. It was a pale blue button-down, now with a large red stain on the front.

"…all over me. Here's the stain. I remember we shared my drink then, and then… nothing. I don't remember another thing, Bones. Not until this morning."

He sat down heavily on the bed, his head still pounding and now even more confused. She pulled her knees up to her chest and dropped her head on them, sinking back into her chair. He stared at the top of her head, desperately trying to remember something more. Bones was not a petite woman; she was thin, true, but very tall. Yet his robe seemed to swallow her and the sight of her pale skin against the dark blue terry made his stomach knot at little.

Booth was still staring at his shirt when she jumped up from the chair.

"We were drugged, Booth, it's the only explanation. There was something in that drink we shared. Here, help me find my clothes, we'll go to the lab. Call Cam, tell her to meet us there." She was suddenly a ball of energy, tossing the bed covers every which way looking for her clothing.

"Drugged? What? Call Cam?" Booth still felt like his brain was wrapped in cotton, and things were adding up much slower than normal.

"Booth, get moving. She can run blood and urine tests to determine what was in that drink." Forgetting her modesty, she dropped the robe from her shoulders and pulled on her jeans and shirt. "We need to hurry before it's metabolized out of our system, if it's not already too late. I'll call a cab to take us to the Jeffersonian."

She started to move past him out of the room, and he grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

"Bones, we still don't know what actually happened, you know, _here_. With us," he nodded his head in the direction of the bed.

Her cheeks flushed but she resolutely held his gaze. "We have to go now, Booth," she said softly. "We'll have to find answers to one thing at a time. Whatever did or didn't happen, we start where the evidence is. We can deal with the rest later."

He let go of her arm but didn't follow as she left the room. 'Whatever did or didn't happen' was a much bigger deal than she was allowing for.

* * *

**A/N: So not actually a warm and fuzzy morning after. I don't know exactly where this is going, so I'm counting on your wonderful reviews to help me make up my mind. The rest of the chapters will likely not be this long.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Breath**

**Author: Doc**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I think I could manage if they were.**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: A crime against Booth and Brennan forces them to face themselves. **

**Author's Note: The review response has been great so far, I really appreciate you guys letting me know this was off to an okay start. **

* * *

"So you neither one remember anything at all? Not the cab ride to Booth's house, not paying the cabbie, nothing?"

Dr. Cam Saroyan looked from one partner to the other, still incredulous despite having heard their story from start to finish twice through. She initially had been pretty annoyed at being called by Booth on her way to her Saturday morning nail appointment, but looking at them slumped on the two stools facing her on the platform she now just felt sorry for them. Booth looked completely wiped out, his mouth grim and lined, while Dr. Brennan looked pale and drawn. They both were in desperate need of showers, wearing last night's clothes, except for Booth's shirt that Dr. Brennan had placed in a freezer bag and was gripping in her hands.

"Cam we have to run those blood tests _now_," Brennan repeated. "And we have to test this stain on Booth's shirt."

"Let me get some vacutainers and phlebotomy kits; I'll be right back." She shook her head one more time at them, and went down the steps of the platform towards the autopsy suite. Wisely, she had kept her thoughts to herself about what had likely happened during the time they had 'lost'.

"Bones, we need …"

"The most likely candidates are rohypnol or gamma-hydroxy-butyrate, as both have amnesiac properties, and the tastes of both are easily masked by alcohol," she began as though he never spoke.

"Bones…"

"And as much as I hate to involve anyone else in this, we'll probably need Hodgins to work on this stain. I wonder what the chances are we could keep Angela out of it." Her voice sounded normal, as though they were discussing any of the cases they had worked.

Giving up on the conversation he was trying to have with her, Booth just sighed and answered, "It's not likely you can keep Angela away if you call Hodgins. Once we're done here, I'm going straight to Sid's to pull the security tapes from last night. Unless this was another 'Voodoo Mind Eraser Trick', someone put something in either the drink that was spilled on my shirt, or the drink that we shared. Hopefully there will be something on the tapes."

If she wanted to pretend this was just another case, he could humor her for now. He knew that her clinical detachment and focus on the evidence was her way of dealing with feeling not in control over the situation. Once they had a few more answers, he'd try again to talk to her.

"Alright, I've got what I need, I think. I'll draw a couple of tubes, and run them through the mass spectrometer, we should know pretty quickly what you ingested," Cam talked them through the process as she collected two vacutainers of blood from each of them. "It's been a while since I've done this on a live person, so bear with me."

Cam made quick work of drawing their blood and stood holding the four full vacuum-sealed test tubes. "I can start these on the mass spec, but I really think we need Hodgins for the stain on that shirt. Booth, call him and tell him it's some top secret government mission – that is, if you don't want Angela to come with him," she looked at Brennan for confirmation. At Brennan's nod, she continued, "In that case, he'll sneak over here for sure."

Booth slid down from his stool and pulled out his phone as Cam stepped away to run the blood samples, leaving Brennan alone on the platform, still clutching her makeshift evidence bag containing Booth's shirt. Images of the previous evening flitted through her mind, but ground to a frustrating halt every time she tried to remember anything beyond spilling that drink at the bar. The past few months had actually been some of the best in her life; with Russ now at home with Amy and the girls, she finally had regained some semblance of family. Plus, things with Booth had been…different… somehow. Since Christmas, their friendship had been _more_.

With a sigh, she shook off her thoughts, and stood from the stool, just as Booth was wrapping up his conversation with Hodgins.

"Bug man will be here in ten. Angela's at an art show today, so he's alone. Look Bones, we need to talk about last night." He stood in front of her, blocking her escape from the platform.

She noted his crossed arms and wide open stance and knew he wasn't backing down this time. Not ready to 'talk about last night', she fixed him with an icy stare.

"Booth, right now last night doesn't exist for either of us. Until we piece together the evidence, those hours are gone."

Not relaxing his posture, he replied, "We woke up half-naked in my bed Bones. My _bed_. You can't seriously think there's nothing to talk about."

"We start with what we know Booth and go from there. We were in that bar and we were served drinks that were probably poisoned. Once we have answers about the drinks, we'll move on to … the rest."

"Bones, ignoring the implications of what happened is not helping."

"I'm not ignoring, Booth, I'm working the evidence one piece at a time. It's what I do."

"No, you're trying to avoid the fact that …"

"Okay, folks, I have the results," Cam interrupted, swiping her card and climbing the steps to the platform. From the tension in the air, she had a sneaking suspicion that the partners were discussing what they had been _not_ discussing since they arrived.

"Gamma-hydroxy-butyrate, aka GHB. Also goes by the monikers 'G', 'Georgia Home Boy', 'G-water', as well as a host of others. For the last two years, GHB has surpassed rohypnol or 'roofies' as the date rape drug of choice, thanks to a slightly longer half-life. When mixed with alcohol, it can cause marked anterograde amnesia, euphoria, loss of inhibition. At large doses, which it seems you two ingested, the amnesiac period can last several hours."

Cam looked expectantly at both of them, but despite anticipating the results they both looked shocked and didn't speak. She knew they were hung over and sleep-deprived, and that was just the physical. Waking up together without remembering what happened had to be an awful feeling. Taking pity on them, she took charge.

"Okay, so now we know someone drugged you. The question is whether you were both targets or if the spiked drink was meant for only one of you. I can tell you from the amount of GHB still in your blood samples, someone wanted at least one of you totally incapacitated. Once Hodgins gets to work on the shirt, we'll know who the target actually was."

"Speak of the devil and the devil appears," Hodgins called out as he took the stairs to the platform two at a time. "What's this top secret case you have for me G-man?" he asked with a smile.

Booth just glared until Hodgins' smile faded. "Bones and I were drugged last night at a bar. We shared at drink, because someone knocked one of ours onto my shirt." Bones held up the plastic bag but didn't speak.

"Cam ran some blood tests and they were positive for GHB. We need you to get everything you can out of this stain, particularly if this drink was spiked as well," Booth continued.

"Whoa. Dude. Are you okay? Dr. Brennan?"

"We're fine, Jack, thanks. We just need answers."

Taking the shirt from her, he glanced between them, and decided not to press for more details. "I'm on it," he parted with, heading to his work station.

Cam stood with her arms folded across her chest and said pointedly, "You can both get showers now."

"Gee thanks, Cam," Booth answered, although he knew she was right. He and Bones both smelled like smoke and bar stink. Maybe after they had washed away as much of the previous night as possible, they could sit down and talk. She wasn't running away from him on this, not if there was anything he could do about it.

"Cam, there's one more thing," Brennan spoke quietly, and Booth could hear a hesitation in her voice.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"

Bones took a deep breath and continued with conviction.

"I want you to do a rape kit on me."

* * *

**A/N: I know this was not very B&B, but an important chapter for the case. Shippers hang in there. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Breath**

**Author: Doc**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I think I could manage if they were.**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: A crime against Booth and Brennan forces them to face themselves. **

**Author's Note: Wow. The reviews for the last chapter were quite the firestorm. I'm glad that this story has intrigued people. ****I'd also like to say a special thank you to those who let me know they supported this story and supported me – you know who you are.**

* * *

_"Cam, there's one more thing," Brennan spoke quietly, and Booth could hear a hesitation in her voice._

_"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"_

_Bones took a deep breath and continued with conviction. _

_"I want you to do a rape kit on me."_

* * *

"I'm sorry? A rape kit?" Cam used every ounce of her professionalism to keep her tone and her expression neutral.

Booth was not quite as successful. "What? Bones are you serious?" He turned on his heel, walking two steps then turning back around.

She looked between them, recognizing immediately the difficulty Cam was having schooling her features and taking in Booth's patented defensive stance – hands firmly planted on hips, legs wide as if bracing for a fight.

"Booth, I'm not saying I think you assaulted me. In fact, it's highly unlikely that a man of your age would have been able to sexually assault someone, given the alcohol you ingested and the addition of GHB."

"What? What does that mean, a 'man of my age'?" Booth had the odd sensation of being comforted and insulted at the same time.

"I _mean_," she began slowly, in the patronizing tone she adopted when explaining things she thought the other person should know, "that it is extremely improbable that you would have been able to achieve and maintain an erection after the alcohol and the GHB depressed your central nervous system to the extent it was obviously depressed."

"Jesus, Bones, did you really just say that?" He scrubbed his hands over his face as though wiping the thought from his mind.

"Booth it's nothing to be ashamed of, it happens to all men at some point. Alcohol and drugs exacerbate the issue."

"Bones…"

"Dr. Brennan, I want to be clear – you want me to do a rape exam?" Cam interrupted, silencing Booth with a raised hand.

"No, not an _exam_, exactly. I can… gather the evidence. I need you to run the forensics on it, because that is not my area of expertise and it is yours. Plus I'll need you to give me detailed instructions on what you need for your analysis."

"Bones, wouldn't it be better, for _gathering the evidence _if you went to an emergency room or your own personal doctor?" Booth couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation. It was as if he had stepped into an alternate universe and couldn't escape.

"No, Booth …"

"He's right," Cam interrupted, "wouldn't it be better to go to someone else?"

"_I said no_," she emphasized again. "We can do a better forensic analysis here, _if_ that's even necessary. I'm almost positive there will be no forensic evidence to examine, but we have to rule that out. Here, at the Jeffersonian."

Cam did not like the responsibility for this falling on her shoulders. She felt as though lives and partnerships and friendships were trying desperately to fall apart and she was the unfortunate glue trying to hold things together.

Focusing on Booth, she asked, "Booth?"

Holding his hands up, he took a step back and said what she expected him to say.

"Not my call, Cam. This is Bones' decision and I support that."

"Fine then. Dr. Brennan, let's go to the autopsy suite. I keep kits there. Booth, wait on us in my office."

* * *

The sound of the door clicking shut snapped Booth from his reverie. 

He sat up quickly then stood but Cam waved him down in the chair. "Where's Bones?"

"I sent her to the locker room to shower and change."

"Cam…"

"Seeley. We need to talk." She rounded in front of him and leaned back into her desk. He started to speak and she silenced him with a raised hand. "No, let me. The kit was negative. The vaginal swabs I examined were all negative for seminal fluid, spermicide, or condom lubricant. There were also no hair samples to examine, plus the obvious fact that she had no bruising to suggest an assault. In my professional opinion, I think we have ruled out any sexual contact."

The relief on Booth's face tugged at her heart, and she wanted to hug him. He was such a good person, and she knew the last half hour had been torture for him, but she was determined to have this conversation. He needed to get his head on straight or the world as they all knew it was about to change forever.

"Cam, I really need to talk to her. Can't this conversation wait?"

"No Booth, it can't wait. You need advice whether you know it or not. I know that you try to convince yourself sometimes that Dr. Brennan isn't … what did you call it… a 'girl' like me. But you're wrong. And you need to come to terms with that fact and with what happened, or didn't happen, between you two before you storm out of here and drag her along to your crime scene. Booth, there's a reason she didn't want to go somewhere for a true rape exam and rape kit."

"I don't understand what you're saying." He frowned at her slightly.

"She was protecting you, Seeley. If you _had_ had a sexual encounter with her while she was under the influence of a date-rape drug, then by law the sex was non-consensual. Obviously, you would never have been charged, given the fact you were also drugged and could not have been considered a consenting party either. But there would have been an official investigation into the sexual 'encounter' and your career would have been in jeopardy, not to mention your partnership with her would have been terminated in all likelihood. She planned to destroy the evidence if it came back positive and your DNA matched, she told me so herself."

"_Fuck_…" he breathed out, dropping his head into his hands. "Cam, I _really _need to talk to her."

"No, you need to get yourself together so you can catch whoever did this, and let her come to terms with this on her own."

"She'll shut down on me, Cam; it's the way she deals with things. We've worked really hard to get our partnership and friendship where it is today. I need to make her talk about this."

"Listen to yourself. 'Make her talk about this'. If you think you're going to 'make' Temperance Brennan do anything, then maybe those drugs haven't worn off after all. She needs time, Booth. Back off, give her some space, and then regroup and catch your bad guys. Don't press this. Think about this for a moment: You've been sexually active for what, nearly twenty years?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Nearly twenty years, right Booth?"

"Yeah, sure, close to twenty."

"And in that twenty years, how many times did you wake up in the bed with someone and have absolutely no recollection of what happened?"

Booth pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as he thought.

"Like, maybe two, three times tops. Why is this important Cam? If you're trying to make me feel like and old-ass man-whore it's too late."

"Just hear me out. Now, let's say that Dr. Brennan has been sexually active for fifteen years, give or take. Sound fair?"

"I really don't want to think about this right now, Cam." At her look, he conceded, "Yeah, yeah, sounds fair."

"Knowing her as well as you do, how many times do you think she has woken up in bed with someone with no recollection of what happened?"

Booth sat there for a moment, and Cam watched the understanding of her point dawn on him. She saw him cringe almost imperceptibly, and then tighten his jaw, before finally meeting her eyes.

"Exactly Booth," her voice was soft and kind. "Once. I'd bet my medical license on it happening only once. This morning, at your house, in your bed, was the first time she realized that she wasn't always in total control. She's shaken by it, and she needs time."

He let out a long, haggard breath, and let his head drop back over the back of the chair. Speaking to the ceiling, in a voice so quiet she almost didn't hear, "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

She didn't answer, just smiled a slight, bittersweet smile and reached down and patted his knee. "C'mon. Let's go see what Hodgins has found for us."

* * *

**A/N: ****To those of you that have hung in with me so far, I really hope this chapter made up for the cliffhanger of the last one. Just a quick plug for the song I pilfered for the title – something about it just screamed Booth to me, as he waited for Cam to return with the resul****ts. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Breath**

**Author: Doc**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I think I could manage if they were.**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: A crime against Booth and Brennan forces them to face themselves. **

**Author's Note: ****Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Also, the drug info is basically factual.**

* * *

She could see Booth and Cam with their heads bent together over something at Hodgins' computer terminal. Standing in the hallway just out of sight, she knew she was hiding, and prolonging the inevitable. Certain that Cam had told Booth the results of her exam, she felt a twinge of guilt at being enormously relieved she didn't have to have _that_ conversation. How would one start? _Hi Booth, we didn't have sex. No Booth, we just passed out together, no sex. Nope, no sex for us! _She smiled grimly at her own foolishness, squared her shoulders, and forced herself to join the others. 

"Dr. Brennan, from what Jack has pulled from Booth's shirt, it's safe to say that both drinks were spiked," Cam pointed to the monitor, which displayed the toxicology results.

Before answering, Brennan caught Booth's gaze and a long look of understanding passed between the partners. Things may be upside down in their world, as they were crime victims instead of crime-fighters, but their partnership was intact. The rest of what they were would be figured out later.

"A significant amount? You're sure?"

"Definitely a significant amount. And from what my preliminary results are showing me, this wasn't trailer park lab variety GHB either. It appears to be pharmaceutical grade," Jack smirked.

"Imported?" Cam queried.

"No, it looks like what we have here is a US product, heavily regulated by the FDA under the trade name Xyrem©. Only a few pharmacies on the east coast are licensed to dispense it."

"Why are pharmacies dispensing the most common date-rape drug in America? Isn't this stuff banned, like rohypnol?" Booth asked.

"Xyrem's© only indication is to treat and prevent the cataplexy attacks sometimes suffered by those afflicted with narcolepsy."

"Cata –what?"

"It's a type of temporary paralysis that causes one to fall to the ground unexpectedly and can be quite physically and psychologically damaging," Cam supplied.

Booth's phone chirped and he stepped away to answer. The conversation was short, and then he returned to the group.

"That was Sid. He checked his surveillance equipment this morning and it appears all cameras were working so we should have quite a bit of video. He also uses a software program to record all bar orders and tab payments, and is turning those reports over as well. Hodgins, you'll need to call Angela, she's got the best eye for finding things on surveillance videos. Bones, do you want to go with me to get the video and the bar tally info?" Booth said it as though it was a perfectly natural and normal question, as though he didn't usually just storm in the lab and force her out of her lab coat and into the waiting SUV.

It was the first time since the very early days of their working relationship that he _asked_. He was giving her a chance to say no, to avoid the time alone with him if that was what she wanted. Had he not asked, she might have been more inclined to refuse, but just by extending the option of saying no he took away her desire to do so. Not for the first time, she marveled at how good he was with people, herself included.

"Let me get my bag from my office."

He watched her walk away, as Jack and Cam resumed their discussion of Jack's findings. He could practically taste his relief at her agreement to accompany him. Maybe they could grab a bite of lunch on the way, and regain a sense of normalcy.

* * *

"Bren, there you are. Are you okay?" Angela looked up from the monitor she was setting up in her office, as Brennan walked in, cradling a steaming mug. 

"I'm fine Angela, just a little tired. It's um, been a long day. I thought I'd help you go through the video and things from Sid, while Booth and Hodgins run down the pharmacies that could have supplied the GHB."

"Well pull over a comfy chair because this could be a long process. I hope you've had lunch. I'll have to go through the video of you and Booth to determine the exact time stamps, and then watch the feeds for that time frame from all the other cameras."

Brennan gestured to the stack of spreadsheets Angela had spread before her on the desk. "Have you gone through these?"

"I've glanced through them, but that's all. Sid did a booming business last night, unfortunately for us. There are hundreds of bar orders and bar receipts, but once we know what time you and Booth arrived exactly, and what time you left, we can eliminate the rest and focus our energy."

Brennan tucked her feet under her and raised her tea to her lips as Angela started the video. Crisp black and white images filled the screen, the time stamp showing it was early evening.

Bracelets jangling, Angela pointed the remote at the machine and said, "We'll probably have to go back and watch this again but I'm getting to the video of you and Booth first. We can backtrack from there if necessary. This surveillance video is really good quality, Sid knows what he's doing."

Brennan didn't answer, just watched the images flash by as she continued to sip her tea. Angela wisely didn't ask any questions, knowing instinctively Brennan wasn't in the mood to chat. Hodgins had only given her the barest of details when he called her to come in, and she was biding her time.

The video switched to real time from fast forward, with Angela's muttered, "Ah ha".

"There you are Bren, you and Booth are talking to some one at the door."

"That's Sid's cousin, I think. He works the door for Sid on the weekends when it's crowded, Booth said. He's with the fire department in the District."

"And here you guys are at the bar, talking with Sid."

Brennan set her mug down and leaned forward with Angela to watch for signs of the crime they knew was about to be committed. They watched in silence as Booth led her with a hand on her elbow to a table, and settled in beside her. The camera angle they were watching was from somewhere over their shoulders, and hid their faces for the most part, only occasionally catching one or the other's profile.

Angela snuck a few glances at Bren, to see her reaction to the intimacy of the contact she could see between Bren and Booth. His arm was draped casually over the back of her chair and when he leaned in to talk to her, he rested his hand lightly on her shoulder then pulled back slightly, his fingers flexing then fisting. Angela was a body-language expert, with an artist's eye for minutiae, and she knew that he was making himself not touch her. Bren pushed her hair behind her ear several times, and then would lean in towards Booth, their bodies angling towards each other as they spoke.

Finally Angela could keep silent no longer, and startled Brennan by pushing pause.

"Angela, what? Did you see something?"

"I did, Bren, I saw everything," she answered, swiveling in her chair to face Brennan.

"What? Where? Did you see the drinks being spiked? I should go get Booth." Brennan started to rise, but Angela grabbed her arm and tugged her back down into her chair.

"No, not that, sweetie. Listen, what happened last night between you and Booth?"

"What? What do you mean?" She sounded stern, but didn't meet Angela's eyes.

"Bren, I got the gist from Jack. He said you neither one remember anything from the bar until this morning. Did you and Booth… you know?"

"No! I mean, no Angela, we didn't. Nothing happened," she finished firmly.

"Are you sure, Bren, because from what I saw on the video …"

"I'm positive Ange, trust me. But what does that have to do with what you saw on the video?"

"Oh Bren," Angela said, before pulling her friend into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry."

She hugged Angela back confusedly, and then pulled away with a questioning look.

"Sorry about what Angela? What did you see that you're sorry about? Booth and I were having a nice time listening to the music in a bar, that's all."

"Sweetie, that was a _date_. An intimate, smoky jazz bar kind of date. The kind where you touch each other's hands to make a point, or lean in to whisper your unnecessary comments on the music. Maybe you lean against each other, or simply brush shoulders over and again. But it's definitely a _date_, no doubt. You and Booth just had the misfortune of it ending way too soon – you know, with the poisoning and all," she said knowingly, her eyes glinting.

"Angela, I'm sure it wasn't a date. At least not to me, and I'm sure not to Booth. We're just…"

"I know, hon, I know. Just friends, just partners, just whatever." She waved the comment towards Brennan with her hand. "Sure."

"Let's watch the video, Angela," she said as she grabbed the remote and restarted the images onscreen.

They watched the rest of the video in silence, Angela making notes and marking down time stamps. It was surreal to Brennan, seeing herself and Booth on the monitor, watching them have what appeared to be a good time. Despite her protests to Angela, yesterday evening she felt like she and Booth were in uncharted territory, possibly even date-ish territory, although she hadn't analyzed the feeling at the time. She just remembered the intimacy of their table, and the scent of his cologne, as it mingled with the aroma of her shampoo. He kept his arm around the back of her chair all night, and she remembered the whisper light touch of his hand on her shoulder.

Now, thanks to a bizarre crime against them, they were in a place they didn't have a map for. The friendly confines of Sid's seemed years ago instead of just the night before.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Breath**

**Author: Doc**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I think I could manage if they were.**** Also, the drug Xyrem is real, and the drug information is true for the most part. However, some creative license has been taken. To the manufacturers – I apologize. **

**Rating: T**

**Summary: A crime against Booth and Brennan forces them to face themselves. **

**Author's Note:**** Sorry it has been awhile since I updated (I've just spoiled**** ya'll in the past). Just two**** more chapters I think. **

* * *

He could tell by the state of her desk that she had been at work for a while. The way the papers were scattered, and the folders no longer neatly stacked, he guessed she had been there for at least an hour. It was unholy the hours she worked, and here she was again on a Sunday morning no less. She tapped her pen to her lips, and glanced up, catching him leaning on her door frame. 

"Hey."

She was no longer surprised when she would look up sometimes and find him there, his long frame casually propped against her doorway. Some days he was in a crisp suit, with a snappy tie and the omnipresent 'Cocky' belt buckle. Those days he looked young, eager to go out into the world, ever the conquering hero. Other days the suit was wrinkled, and the tie loose and limp, not even the belt buckle able to protect him from the horrors of his job. His face was lined then, and the years it had faced stretched before her gaze. On days like this one, he had shed the armor of the suit; stylishly faded jeans slung low and an inexplicable t-shirt stretching across his chest. He looked more real to her on days like this, more touchable, more like the everyman alter-ego instead of the super hero.

She shook off her thoughts as he spoke. "Mornin', Bones. What time did you get out of here last night?" He pushed away from the door frame and sat down in a chair facing her desk.

"Oh, not that late," she lied, flicking her gaze away.

He smiled at the lie; he knew she left well after midnight. He had taken Jack with him to Sid's to interview the staff, and saw her car when he dropped Hodgins back at the Jeffersonian. It had been a dead end, but after talking to Angela a few minutes earlier, his mood had greatly improved. Choosing not to push her about the hours she worked, he said, "At least we know now that we weren't the targets."

"Yeah, Angela is amazing. So… the drinks that were delivered to our table, table eight, were really for table eighteen on the other side of the bar? And the waitress didn't catch on because Sid told her all of our drinks were complimentary?"

"That's what it looks like to me. Angela also identified the two women seated at table eight, from Sid's bar orders and receipts," he glanced down at the folder he had opened on his knees, "Cindy Duggins and Lori Taylor. They were celebrating Ms. Taylor's recent promotion, so their drinks were all charged to Miss Duggins' credit card."

"Did you go by Angela's desk? She was working on getting a better printout from the video of the man that was hovering by the bar. I watched the video with her several times and it is clear he put something in the drinks, right before the waitress picked them up for delivery to the table."

"She flagged me down as I walked by. She said to tell her you owe her big, Jimmy Choo big, whatever that means," he said with a confused smile.

Brennan flipped her hair back from her face, and answered with a laugh, "Oh, I have to buy her a pair of designer shoes every time I make her work on Sundays, it's our arrangement."

"You have to bribe her to come in on Sundays?"

"Well, usually we're not in the Jimmy Choo price range, but apparently her demand increases when she works on Saturday night and then comes in on Sunday morning."

Booth just shook his head. He had been with Cam – a self-proclaimed shoe-obsessee – for long enough to know a tiny little bit about women's shoes. He had to hand it to Angela, she had good taste.

"Anyway, Angela gave me a name, James Carlton. Twenty-seven, last known address was Norfolk. Guess where he used to work, Bones?"

"For the Navy?"

"No, he was a pharmacy technician at Pathways Behavioral Sciences and Sleep Center."

"What is that?"

"Apparently an inpatient sleep sciences center. It's a facility for those that suffer severe sleep disorders such as narcolepsy."

She was already putting on her coat as she said, "We're going there right? To see if he had access to drugs such as Xyrem©?"

Booth was thankful for her exuberance as he laughed and said, "Yes ma'am. We're going there now."

* * *

The director of pharmacy had been a pain, but after speaking to the Center's risk management lawyers he was very cooperative. Brennan and Booth were fairly certain that James Carlton was the one spiking drinks that night at Sid's, since they learned of an official incident report that was filed the previous May. It was to report to the Virginia Board of Pharmacy the loss or theft of three one-hundred count bottles of Xyrem©. James Carlton was the number one suspect but had simply been let go by the Center, since there had been no concrete evidence. She and Booth were heading back from Norfolk, once they concluded their interview at the Center. 

Brennan was mulling over the case, which looked close to being solved, as Booth ended his phone call.

"Was that Cullen?" she asked.

"It was." He didn't immediately elaborate, but she could tell from his tone the conversation had not gone well. His jaw was clinched in the familiar way that telegraphed his displeasure.

"And?"

"And he's not too thrilled we didn't hand this case over to the Virginia state police immediately. I convinced him we had to rule out the involvement of Gormagon first."

"What else?" She knew she wasn't as perceptive as Booth by a long shot, but she wasn't stupid either. Something else was bothering him, and the phone call lasted a lot longer than she had expected.

"He said we have to hand everything over first thing in the morning. Everything. All the evidence we have so far in this case. The state police will go over _everything _with a fine-toothed comb, and then pick up Carlton," he answered, still not looking over at her from the driver's side of the SUV.

She stared at him for a moment, before realization dawned. "Booth… the evidence from the …kit…"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then spoke, "Cam told me you weren't going to keep the evidence if it was positive… you know… that you and I… You didn't have to protect me, Bones."

"It would have been to protect both of us, Booth. Our partnership could have been in jeopardy."

"Still, Bones. That's not you. You don't destroy evidence in a criminal investigation to protect anyone."

"Evidence that you and I had intercourse would not have been pertinent to this investigation, therefore it would have never been submitted. Neither would evidence to the contrary. Which is why it was destroyed."

It took him a minute to catch up with her, as he tried to propel his brain past the word 'intercourse'.

Finally he asked, "Are you telling me you and Cam destroyed everything? After it all tested negative?"

Looking at him as though he was slightly learning disabled, she repeated slowly, "Yes, Booth. That is what I'm telling you. Nothing from the rape exam was kept as evidence. That was for our personal knowledge only; Cam was aware of that from the start. I threw it in the medical waste incinerator myself."

"Bones…" he wasn't really sure what to say after that revelation. But he knew he needed to say something, to discuss with her the fact that they very nearly crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed. Unwittingly, yes. And there was that nagging voice in his head telling him he had been upset not by the fact they may have crossed that line, but instead upset by the fact he didn't remember it.

He took a deep breath and tried again. "Bones, I just want to make sure that everything is okay between us. A lot has happened in the last forty-eight hours, and I don't want our partnership – or our friendship – to suffer because of it."

She tilted her head and regarded him silently for a moment before answering, "I think we'll be fine Booth. Let's just make sure we have the evidence to put this bastard away for good."

"There's my girl," he chuckled, before turning his eyes back to the road.

* * *

**A/N**: I realize this is turning into more of an implied B&B, or friendship fic than I had planned. The next chapter will be the last, and I hope everyone is not too terribly disappointed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Breath**

**Author: Doc**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but I think I could manage if they were. **

**Rating: T**

**Summary: A crime against Booth and Brennan forces them to face themselves. **

**Author's Note: ****A huge shout-out to everyone that's read and reviewed this roller-coaster story. I'm not completely sold on the way it turned out, but these characters have definite minds of their own. Thanks a million to those of you who sent some serious encouragement my way.**** Also, this is set a few weeks after the last chapter.**

* * *

"Big plans for the weekend, Bones?"

She started slightly as she looked up from her terminal to see Booth standing just inside her office. Deep into revisions on her latest book, she hadn't heard nor sensed his approach.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he smirked, tapping his pen on the post-it notes she had on her bookshelf, curio cabinet, and even her desk lamp, "Working on your new book, I see. Andy and Kathy having hot monkey sex again?"

"I don't know what monkeys have to do with it Booth, but yes, there are some sex scenes in this book. That's not what I'm working on right now; I'm doing revisions."

She looked at him expectantly for a moment, and when he just sunk down onto her sofa and put his feet up, she asked pointedly, "Did you need something?"

As though she hadn't spoken, he flipped his poker chip in the air and continued, "Well, if you need any help with Andy's 'moves', I'd be glad to give some pointers."

"I don't think I need any pointers Booth. I've had sex before. While I'm sure that you have an array of 'moves' you could share, I think the sex scenes are just fine," she answered wryly. "And what was it you said you needed?" she asked again.

Unperturbed, he continued as though she weren't trying to get rid of him. "Just got off the phone with Sid. He wants to make it up to us, you know, after what happened at his bar. He's been asking for a couple of weeks, and I gave in and told him I'd ask you about this weekend."

"Booth, as much as I like Sid, I don't know if I'm ever going in that bar again. Poisoning, memory loss, a hangover from hell, - I don't think I want a repeat of that night ever again." She discreetly left out the part about waking up in his bed with only her underwear on.

"It's like falling off a bike, Bones. You have to get back on. Sid feels really terrible, and really wants us try the place out again." He got up from the couch and perched on the corner of her desk, flashing his most winsome smile.

"Not tonight."

"Tomorrow then."

"This is a bad weekend for me. I really need to work."

"You work every weekend. Give yourself a break, Bones."

"Booth …"

"Bones …"

Sensing that it was utterly useless to try to put him off, she sighed and sank back into her chair.

"If I go,"

"Yes!" He flipped the chip up into the air and snatched it in triumph.

"_IF_ I go, I'm only drinking water. Period. Out of a bottle."

"Absolutely." He couldn't stop himself from grinning widely as he shook her hand to seal it. "You won't regret this Bones. You'll have fun, relax, enjoy the music, and forget all about the last time we were there." At her eye roll, he hastened to add, "I mean, forget all about the part you remember. Whatever – you know what I mean."

He headed for her door, knowing he needed to get away before she changed her mind.

"Pick you up at eight," was the last thing she heard as he strolled out her door.

* * *

The bar was dark and a little smoky when they arrived, and the crowd was just starting to gather at the tables near the small corner stage. The live music for the night was a local band that played a mix of soul, blues and jazz and they were just starting their first set. 

"Yo, Booth, I've got a place for you and the lady doctor over here in the corner," Sid said by way of greeting, shaking Booth's hand and smiling widely at Brennan. "I appreciate you giving me and my fine establishment another chance, Dr. B.; I promise to pour and serve all of your drinks personally."

"Thank you Sid, but I'll just have water, please," she said as he led them to their table.

"Beer for me Sid, I trust you."

Sid just chuckled and headed behind the bar, as they slid into their booth.

"Bones, you know the chances of anything like that ever happening again are like, a million to one. Not to mention that Sid is watching the place like a hawk now. I'm sure you're safe to order anything you want."

"A million to one or not, Booth, I'm just being careful. Besides, I _want _water."

"Have it your way."

Sid slid their drinks on the table and they both relaxed and drank deeply. Booth stretched his legs out in front of him and pushed the dark blue sleeves of his sweater further up his arms, before laying one arm across the back of the booth. He could just barely touch her hair if he wiggled his fingers, and contented himself with that as they talked.

It was a rare time for them, talking and laughing, without serial killing cannibals, murderous clowns, date-rape drugs, or anything else horrifying on their minds. She laughed at his stories about Parker, and he smiled when she referred to Amy's girls as her nieces. Time swirled around them without being noticed, as Sid replaced her water with her favorite wine, and then replaced Booth's beer with water.

The sad strains of a melody began, as the singer's smoky voice penetrated their consciousness.

Booth looked over at the stage and then turned to her, "Hmm, I love this song."

He watched her listen for a moment, trying to place it, when he heard himself say, "Dance with me, Bones."

For a moment he thought she would refuse, and in fact he expected her to.

For a moment she thought she would refuse, and in fact she expected herself to.

Surprising both of them, she twisted her mouth and the words, "Sure, Booth," came out of their own volition.

Any other woman, and at any other time in Seeley Booth's life, he would have led her to the dance floor by the hand. But Bones was certainly not any other woman and this was a time in his life for which there existed no road map. So he crooked one long finger around the fine bones of her wrist and maintained just the slightest touch as they crossed to the crowded dance floor.

It amazed her how well they fit together on the dance floor. She had noticed it previously, in Aurora during that weird cannibal case, and at Jack and Angela's non-wedding reception. Before, she attributed it to their obvious height compatibilities, after all there were very few men she didn't tower over in high heels. Now that explanation seemed inadequate.

_"…are you so strong or is all the weakness in me … Why do you come here, when you know I've got troubles enough… I need to see you … I need to hold you…"_

As they swayed to the music, the words he breathed in her ear just added to the sense of being blanketed by the crowd, by the smoky haze, by … _hi__m._

He was amazed at how well they fit together on the dance floor. Lord love her, she was _tall_, and it unnerved him in a way, dancing with a woman who could very nearly look him in the eyes. And of course she always tried to lead, but he never let her; they wouldn't have been Booth and Brennan otherwise.

She could feel the warmth of his hand splayed across her lower back as they moved, holding her close but not too close. Something made her mind jump back to the conversation with Angela weeks ago, about their last night in this bar. She replayed the conversation in her head, and then tilted up her chin.

"Is this a date, Booth?"

Her voice startled him, and even more so when he comprehended her words. The witty retort died in his throat as he pulled back to look in her eyes. Honesty. That was all he saw there and knew he had to return it in kind.

"I think it is, Bones. That okay with you?"

She thought for a moment, and he held his breath.

Lowering her chin to his shoulder, she answered softly in his ear, "I think it is Booth. I think it is okay."

He responded by holding her a little closer and murmuring the last few lines of the song in her ear.

"_…I need to see you … I need to hold you…"_

* * *

**A/N: The song is 'The Weakness in Me' by Joan Armatrading. Thanks for reading.**


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